On Worldbuilding: Beware The “Expository Lump!”

Open for some serious worldbuilding business…

Over the last month I’ve been relooking at previous worldbuilding posts. (See the end of this post for links to the current series.)

I also took a wee sidetrip to Ursula Le Guin’s Steering The Craft, with a specific nod to the chapters that touch on worldbuilding. The term “expository lump” also stems from Steering The Craft.

Le Guin cites it as a general science fiction* writing term, but her book is the only place I’ve seen it used, so in my mind it will always be her phrase. She uses it when discussing “how to provide information in a narrative”, with SFF worldbuilding as a particular example. (See the earlier post here.)

‘Expository lumps’, according to Le Guin, occur when “information is poured out as a lecture, barely concealed by some stupid device.” When instead, the information should be an integral part of the storytelling: what Le Guin encapsulates as “breaking up the information, grinding it fine, and making it into bricks to build the story with.”

The reason I am citing Le Guin extensively is because I believe she’s right. I also consider her a master storyteller and worldbuilder, one from whom we can all learn, as writers.

The reason I don’t add “…or simply enjoy, as readers”, is because if information sharing of any kind is done well, in line with Le Guin’s “breaking up/grinding/story-building bricks” precept, then the process and its mechanics should be invisible to readers. We should simply enjoy and be immersed in the result, without being jolted out of the story flow.

Exposition can occur in any style of literature, but historical and speculative fiction are more vulnerable to it because of the need to provide readers with necessary background information they would otherwise not know. This is particularly the case with secondary (alternate) world fantasy, where the certainties of this world may or may not apply. Consequently, as author of an historically influenced, secondary world fantasy series, I’ve had to be doubly aware of the perils of exposition.

daughter-of-blood-by-helen-lowe

The greatest pitfall may be that having diligently researched historical influences (such as siege warfare for Daughter of Blood) or pondered the geography, culture, mythology, technology, and economy et al of one’s world, the temptation to Share It All can be exceedingly great.

I have two chief rules-of-thumb to try and avoid plunging headlong into the spiked pit of over-exposition:

1. Keep It Simple, Stupid — yes, the KISS principle is as tried and true for fantasy worldbuilding as it is in almost every other situation. The chances are always good that if one is keeping it simple, then lumpen exposition will be far less likely to occur.

2. Only Include Necessary Information: This principle is first cousin to keeping it simple, but I believe takes it one step further. The key is the adjective necessary. When considering what worldbuilding detail gets in and what stay’s out, the vital question is always: Is the information necessary to this story? If the narrative in all its aspects of story, plot, and character development and understanding will work without its inclusion, then the detail should not be in the book.

For example, The Lord of the Rings was published with six appendices containing detailed information on language, history, and other matters germane to the world of Middle Earth: all of which are fascinating to avid fans, but none of which are necessary to read and enjoy the trilogy.

An example from my own writing includes the background research undertaken for Thornspell, which fell into two main areas. I wanted the story to take place in Europe’s late Middle Ages, with an overlap to a faerie realm influenced by both the Sleeping Beauty tradition and the Arthurian cycle, the latter requiring investigation of both the Celtic and Germanic story variants.

In terms of the historical era, I like to say that I read between 4-6 nonfiction histories in order to include between 4 -5 sentences in the book. The fairytale and mythic influences are more deeply embedded in the story, but when it comes to specific references, the research-to-inclusion ratio is pretty much the same.

In other words, worldbuilding should resemble an iceberg, with the bulk of the work informing the narrative but only the tip visible within the story.

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* I suspect Le Guin of using “science fiction” in the old way, here, as a catch-all for science fiction and fantasy, before the two became distinct genres and the term “speculative fiction” was coined to cover the gamut of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. (Although I can’t shake the conviction that all fiction, by its nature, is speculative…)

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